“And we both know, soon as a job on a real paper opens up again, you’ll be on the next bus out of here.” “I can do what I do anywhere.” “Is that right? For such a smart guy, you do some pretty stupid things. What happened up in Chi-Town, anyway?” “The editor spiked too many of my stories,” Procter said, in the bored tone of a man retelling a very old story. “So you went behind his back and peddled your stuff to that Communist rag?” “That exposé never saw a blue pencil, Chief. They printed it just like I wrote it.” “Yeah, I guess they did,” the doughy man said, fingering his suspenders. “And I guess you know, that’s never going to happen here.” “I’ve been here almost three years. You think I haven’t learned that much?” “From this last piece of copy you turned in, I’m not so sure. Your job is to cover crime, Jimmy. Crime, not politics.” “In Locke City—” “Don’t even say it,” the editor warned, holding up one finger. “Just stick to robberies and rapes, okay? Shootings, stompings, and stabbings, that’s your beat. Leave the corruption stories for reporters in the movies.” twotrainsrunning/about-book.html
Posted on: Sun, 02 Nov 2014 11:30:59 +0000